Don't Bet on Love
by marjojo
Summary: Fred and George try to jump-start their little brother's romance in order to win a bet, with hilariously disastrous results!
1. The Reluctant Partner

Disclaimer: George, Fred, Ron, Hermione, Harry & co. are not mine, but the lovely and talented J. K. Rowling's.  
  
A/N: This fic is set in Harry and Ron's fifth year, although I suppose sixth year would do just as well. I wrote this fic before book 5 came out.  
  
Don't Bet on Love  
  
Chapter One: The Reluctant Partner  
  
George wasn't convinced. Fred was using all of his persuasive powers, including threats of unknown pranks and mischief, ("I'll get you in your sleep, I will!") but it still seemed like a BAD idea.  
  
"But it just doesn't feel right! I mean, they're just kids!" George protested lamely, knowing his twin was winning the argument.  
  
"Kids who are desperately in love and don't know it." Fred pointed out. "All we're doing is giving them a nudge in the right direction!"  
  
"And profiting from it!" his brother said indignantly.  
  
"Hey, I didn't hear you protesting when we put Slow-Down Spells on the Bulgarian Chasers' brooms last year! Or when we slipped McGonagall that Sleeping Draught so she missed collecting that major essay we forgot about-- we profited quite nicely from those (or, in the case of the World Cup, we sure thought we would) and you didn't have such a conscience then!" Fred said "conscience" like it was a dirty word.  
  
"But--this is different!" George tried to explain.  
  
Fred crossed his arms. "Different how?"  
  
"They--they could really get hurt if we mess it up."  
  
"Once again with the hypocrisy!" Fred exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration. "Do you think the Chasers and McGonagall weren't hurt? She said she hadn't missed a class since before Mum and Dad were students! Besides," he added slyly. "we won't mess it up."  
  
"But he's our brother!"  
  
"And that didn't bother you a bit when we turned his hair pink for a week and left Dungbombs in his bed." Fred looked at the still doubtful look on his twin's face and sighed, changing tactic. "Look. The terms of the bet assume the inevitability of those two getting together. Do you disagree with that?"  
  
"Of course not, it's so obvious..." George trailed off.  
  
"So, you see, we're not going to make them do anything they're not already dying to do. The thing we bet on was WHEN, not how or who. We're leaving the most important bits up to them." Fred looked at George, who was still unconvinced. Fred leaned low, speaking in their conspiratorial tone in his ear. "George, I just bought out blocks for the next two weeks; every day until the 21st of this month is ours. And when you add to that the long- shot odds I just got on our dear brother making the first move--do you have any idea what the jackpot has grown to?"  
  
George shook his head.  
  
"Nine hundred Galleons."  
  
George's jaw dropped.  
  
His brother went on. "It's been going for more than 3 years! I'm sure every single Gryffindor except the two in question has added at least a Knut. At least. Quite a few Hufflepuffs too, they like a good bet. And together we've probably put in at least fifty Galleons." Fred lowered his voice. "You know how much we need it for the newest project." Fred's eyes shone at the very idea of the new and expensive product they were developing, one they both were sure would make the Weasley name more famous than Zonko's.  
  
George returned the mischievous look, unable to help himself. He sighed, giving in. "So what's the plan? How do we get him to DO something?"  
  
"That's what I've been having trouble with, O Partner in Crime." Fred admitted. Their every scheme was a perfect collaboration; no prank had ever worked without input from both twins. They both knew this and utterly respected it. It had grown to a superstition between them; neither would ever dream of acting without the other's help and support.  
  
"All right, let's think about this. We need to talk to him soon. Tomorrow?" George asked. Fred nodded. They got down to business and began plotting the details.  
  
A/N: Next chapter, Ron, Harry, and Hermione in a (quite dangerous) Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Thanks for reading, please review! 


	2. Hero of the Day

Don't Bet on Love  
  
Chapter Two: Hero of the Day  
  
Ron Weasley walked with his best friends, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, to the pen where they took their Care of Magical Creatures lessons. The Slytherins, as usual, hung behind, blatantly and pointedly unenthused about the coming lesson. Either oblivious to this or ignoring it, Hagrid smiled at his students, excited about the creatures he was going to introduce them to today. Harry, Ron and Hermione took their usual place in the front of the crowd of students.  
  
"Right, so we've done Occamies and Kneazles," Hagrid boomed. "Today, winged horses!" He moved aside, revealing two magnificent horses, one chesnut and one palamino. They were a bit larger than regular horses, it seemed. Their wings were not quite like birds' wings, but were of a furry kind of webbing with scale-like feathers, gleaming in the sun. Hermione, Ron and Harry exchanged eager looks. This was definitely going to be one of Hagrid's better lessons. The students were anxious to get into the pen and try to fly them around, but first Hagrid had to give them notes and warnings about the creatures.  
  
"...the brown one's name is Loxley, he's an Aethonan, native to England, and the palamino, Justinian, is an Abraxan. That un's real powerful so watch out. Now, if you were to actually own a winged horse, you'd have to perform an Illusion Charm on it daily so Muggles would look at it and see just a regular horse..."  
  
Ron was distracted by Draco Malfoy whispering to his minions, Crabbe and Goyle. He frowned at them, hoping they weren't plotting to try to get Hagrid in trouble again. When he returned his attention to the lesson, Hagrid was opening the pen and the students were streaming in and crowding around the horses. Ron followed Harry and Hermione to the Abraxan.  
  
"Aren't they beautiful?" Lavender Brown was saying, as she gingerly touched its wing.  
  
"What do you think it'd be like to ride, Harry?" Ron asked, awed.  
  
"Well, not as comfortable as a broomstick, that's for sure" Harry answered, his tone light. He looked over at Hermione, his green eyes dancing, "but probably a bit smoother than a hippogriff." All three laughed a moment, before Malfoy interrupted them.  
  
"I suppose you three have never seen a winged horse before?" he drawled in his usual bored, but pointed, tone of voice. "Of course you wouldn't have. Only privileged and wealthy wizards can keep them. We've got four. Hagrid should get us some real exotic creatures."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes at Malfoy's snobbishness. "Not everyone here is like you, Malfoy, with money coming out of your ugly, turned-up nose."  
  
Ron looked down, embarrassed, knowing that she meant him. He appreciated the sentiment, but he didn't like Hermione having to stand up for him; with Malfoy, he preferred to fight his own battles (and some of hers as well).  
  
Malfoy's eyes narrowed, and it looked like he was about to use a word that they all knew would draw wands and send someone to the Infirmary Wing, when Hagrid came over.  
  
"One of you lot like to try an' ride 'im?" he asked cheerfully.  
  
But Malfoy spoke before Harry, Ron, or Hermione could. Hagrid looked doubtful, but he didn't seem to have a choice. He gave Malfoy a leg up onto Justinian's back.  
  
As soon as Malfoy came in contact with the horse, it became very nervous, almost panicky, despite Hagrid's attempts to calm it. Justinian began to wildly flap his wings, trying to get into the air, where he could rid himself of Malfoy's rough heels. In one ferocious downbeat, the horse's wing knocked down Hermione, who had been standing too close, and she fell under his flailing front hooves. Ron acted instinctively, without thinking: he stooped and ran under the horse's legs, pulling Hermione up with him. Justinian's hooves crashed right behind Ron, as he helped Hermione up and her weak knees regained their balance.  
  
"You all right?" he gently lifted her chin to look her in the eye, while still supporting her unsteady stance with his other arm.  
  
Her eyes widened as she looked at him, her breath still ragged, her expression one of mixed shock, joy and gratitude. Without a word, she flung her arms around his neck, and he, not knowing what else to do, awkwardly and loosely returned the hug. When Ron gently pushed her away (which he did as soon as he politely could), it was with a feeling of reluctance that surprised him. He noticed a strange sense of loss the moment after she had left his arms. As Ron and Hermione broke from each other, the enormity of what had just happened seemed to hit them both at once, and they looked at each other in wonderment and something like fear. Their immediate reaction to this new feeling was to try to backtrack by belittling what Ron had done.  
  
"Thanks!" Hermione said in a forcedly off-hand sort of voice, brushing off her robes.  
  
"Don't mention it," Ron muttered, sticking his hands in his pockets and turning his attention to Justinian, finally regaining his composure, and Hagrid lifting Malfoy down from his back.  
  
"Poorly trained beast--" Malfoy began, outraged.  
  
"Be quiet, you!" Hagrid yelled at the spoiled blond boy. "That horse came from the best stables in Europe! It wouldn't buck like that unless its rider did something to make it mad. D'you think I didn't see you jabbin' him with your ruddy heels?" He lowered his voice murderously, bending close to Malfoy's face. "You tell your bloody father about this and try to have him execute another beautiful animal o' mine and I'll be sure to introduce you to a couple o' my own pets, and they make Fang look like a newborn puppy." Malfoy's eyes went wide with fear and his mouth snapped shut.  
  
Ron, Harry and Hermione exchanged surprised, but impressed looks. They'd never expected to hear Hagrid talk to Malfoy like that.  
  
"All right, lesson over!" Hagrid told the whole group. The students gathered their things and started off, some grumbling because they'd wanted a chance on the winged horses, some excited about having the rest of the afternoon free, most gossiping wildly about what had happened.  
  
"Y'all right, Hermione?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"Yes, Hagrid, fine," she said, with a slight smile.  
  
"Lucky we got Ron here!" Hagrid went on, almost knocking Ron down with a hearty slap on the back. "What's it like to be hero of the day?"  
  
Hero of the day. Those unexpected words affected Ron deeply. With Harry Potter always at his side, Ron was used to hearing that word, "hero", always directed to or referring to his best friend, but never him. Ron was surprised at how good it felt. His chin seemed to lift of its own accord and his arms suddenly and inexplicably felt stronger and more capable. But then there was that qualifier, of the day. Of course this feeling couldn't last; Harry was the real hero. Ron did sometimes long for the attention Harry got, but he'd also witnessed the awful toll it took on his friend, the horrible responsibility that dragged on Harry's young shoulders, especially in the past year. By now, Ron had seen enough and grown up enough that he most decidedly did not want that, and he was usually more than content to stand in the sidelines. But he thought that he could deal with hearing Hagrid say his name in that busting-at-the-seams-proud tone he usually reserved for Harry, and having Hermione look at him with eyes that said, "You just saved my life!" Hero of the day, he could be.  
  
"He's speechless!" Harry joked, covering Ron's thoughtful silence. They laughed a moment with Hagrid and then left to join the other students, Hermione walking ahead of the boys a bit. Ron glanced over at Harry, who was still shaking his head at him in disbelieving admiration. "What?" he asked.  
  
"Oh, nothing! Just that you saved Hermione's bloody life!" Harry exclaimed, grinning and shoving Ron sideways playfully. Ron laughed and shoved him back.  
  
"Why'd you do that, anyway?" Harry asked suddenly.  
  
"Huh?" Ron didn't understand what Harry meant by that at all.  
  
"Why'd you run under a winged horse's hooves to keep Hermione from getting trampled?"  
  
It seemed to Ron like that question had just answered itself. "She's my friend. You'd have done it if you'd been closer." he said uncertainly, shrugging.  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "I was closer. You practically mowed me down to get to her. I was reaching for my wand and trying to remember how to do a Shield Charm, but before I got to it, you'd already pulled her out."  
  
A Shield Charm! Now Ron just felt silly. Of course there'd been a way to keep Hermione from getting smashed to bits without putting himself in danger. Why hadn't he thought of that?  
  
"Ron, I can't help wondering why you risked your life, without thinking, while I just pulled out my wand and stayed out of danger. Especially when I'm the Boy-Who-Lived and all." Harry said with an ironic tone.  
  
Ron just said brightly, "Well, I guess today was my day to be the hero!"  
  
Harry laughed. "Yeah, that's true. But I was thinking the difference had more to do with who it was under the horse's hooves."  
  
Ron just looked at him, confused. Harry sighed and went on, talking him through it. "All right, I know this isn't the best example, but let's just say for a moment, that it was Cho Chang about to be trampled. I'd jump under there in an instant to save her."  
  
"Oh, that's just because you like her!" Ron said in a joking, dismissing tone. But then he caught the look on Harry's face telling him to put two and two together. "You don't mean--"  
  
"Think about it, Ron." was the only response Harry would give.  
  
A/N: Next chapter, Fred and George also try to talk to Ron. Thanks for reading, please review! 


	3. Obviously Not Their Specialty

Don't Bet on Love  
  
Chapter 3: Obviously Not Their Specialty  
  
"All right, George, ready?" Fred muttered to his twin, looking out on the hallway from their hiding place behind a suit of armor.  
  
"You know it." George murmured, holding up a hand to quiet Fred as he noticed the crowd of fifth-years approaching. As the crowd passed them, they joined it with ease, joking with the lot of them. But by the time they passed a certain side corridor, they were both in position on either side of Ron, and they began to steer him down the hall, away from the crowd, chattering about some new snacks in the kitchens to distract him from losing the group. Exactly as planned.  
  
"So, uh, Ron, what do you think of Hermione?" Fred asked oh-so-casually.  
  
"Huh? What about her?" his confused brother replied.  
  
"Um," George glanced at Fred. "Doesn't she look good today? Grown a bit over the summer, hasn't she?" George wagged his eyebrows.  
  
"A bit tall for last year's skirt..." Fred went on, consideringly.  
  
"I suppose, I hadn't not--" Ron started, looking from one to the other, completely puzzled by their behavior.  
  
"Wonder what she'd look like." Fred's suggestive voice trailed off and he grinned at George, who understood the drift and picked it up.  
  
"We were thinking of testing our new Disrobing Darts on her." George finished, smiling.  
  
The twins were not disappointed at Ron's reaction. First his eyes grew plate-sized, then he reddened until his hair and skin were indistinguishable from each other. He began sputtering: "You--can't do that!--She--kill you!--I, uh--" But Ron's panic changed to bewilderment when he saw that his brothers were doubled over laughing at him. He suddenly became wary. "What's so funny?"  
  
"Don't you see what just happened?" Chuckling, George asked the still- shocked Ron.  
  
"What do you--?" Ron asked.  
  
"You got a nice visual there, didn't you?" Fred said mischievously. "I could see it in your face, your eyes got this big!" He made his hands into a circle about the size of a Quaffle.  
  
"And if we only had a mirror! You should see the color you just turned!" George went on, pinching Ron's cheek.  
  
"You can't tell us you're not attracted to her, bud, not after we've seen that face." Fred informed him, touching Ron's nose with his finger. Ron seemed to be getting very annoyed, but the twins were holding his shoulders in a psuedo-friendly way, subtly keeping him from running away, and talking so rapidly at him that he could not protest.  
  
"And not only that, Fred, he was going to try to protect her! Isn't that sweet!" George spoke in a tone he might use when talking to a puppy, shaking Ron's shoulder affectionately.  
  
"He always has, hasn't he, George? How many times has he stood up for her to Malfoy?" Fred pointed out.  
  
"Oh, countless!" George agreed enthusiastically. "And I won't even bring up the Yule Ball!" At this Ron gave up his unheard protests and simply tried to bolt away from his brothers, but they held him too firmly.  
  
"Or maybe we should." Fred said, observing Ron's actions and flashing George a look.  
  
"Yes, we should! Bloody ridiculous the way you carried on!" George scolded.  
  
"Honestly, Ron, can you tell us why you made such a fuss?" Fred asked, loosening his hold and looking expectantly at him.  
  
It was only the second time in so many minutes that the twins had allowed Ron to talk, but, again, he did not seem to be able to say anything intelligible. The twins exchanged knowing looks.  
  
"See, Ron, you're having trouble explaining your behavior because you won't admit that you were jealous." George told him, sounding like a psychoanalyst.  
  
"Because I wasn't!" Ron said angrily.  
  
"Then why did it matter to you who she went with?" Fred asked, very pointedly.  
  
Once again, Ron couldn't say anything. The twins were letting go of him.  
  
"So why don't you just think about that, Ron?" George said, clapping him on the back.  
  
"Think long and hard." Fred added.  
  
"Search your heart of hearts." George said in a mock sentimental voice.  
  
"And do it by the 21st." Fred muttered. George elbowed him in the ribs without breaking the plastic smile he was presenting to Ron.  
  
Ron looked at them a moment as if he doubted their sanity, and then he began to walk off slowly. But after awhile his steps slowed, then stopped completely. Ron turned around and started to walk back. The twins looked at each other, surprised. They'd thought Ron would be glad to get away, the way he'd acted.  
  
"What's this all about, you two?" Ron asked them, his tone wary and his arms crossed.  
  
"Why, whatever do you mean?" George feigned innocence, batting his eyes.  
  
"Don't give me that; I've known you too long. Why do you care about me and Hermione?"  
  
The twins exchanged a nervous look. They hadn't expected this. Fred began sputtering much like Ron had earlier. George shut him up with a glance and said lamely, "We just want to see our brother happy with the girl he likes."  
  
"Ha." Ron said dryly. "This, coming from the same two that almost broke up Percy and his girl, switching his sickly sweet letter for one that said 'you look like a hag'."  
  
Fred chuckled softly at the mere memory of that prank, then, smiling, said, "But we like you more than Percy!"  
  
"Loads more!" George agreed.  
  
Ron laughed at this thought. "I'm flattered, guys, really. I'm sure that my not prancing about polishing a Head Boy badge endears me to you. But that didn't seem to be the case when you."  
  
Fred cut Ron off before he could start listing the many tricks they had played on him. His panicked mind was searching for an explanation, and his mouth shot off the first one that came to his head. "It's Hermione!"  
  
Ron looked at him quizzically. "What about her?" he said carefully.  
  
Fred looked at George, silently pleading with him to make up the next lie. "Uh, she asked us to." was as far as George got before he got distracted by the expression on Ron's face. He looked as if he had never heard anything so ridiculous.  
  
"What? First of all, she doesn't like me. Second, she's my friend, meaning just friends, meaning she doesn't like me. Third--why on earth would she go to you guys for help, even if she did like me, which she doesn't--"  
  
"What makes you so sure?" Fred broke in, pleased with the turn that the conversation had taken.  
  
"We fight all the time! She's constantly telling me how lazy and useless I am--"  
  
"She'd probably think of it as trying to get you to 'realize your potential'." George said.  
  
Ron looked thoughtful. "She might have said that once.How'd you know she said that?" he demanded, turning his suspicious eyes back to the twins.  
  
"Uh, we're more observant than you'd think, Ron," Fred said nervously.  
  
"And smarter than we look," George threw in for good measure.  
  
"Sure." Ron said sarcastically. "How many O.W.L's did you get again? You two only watch things when you have a reason to. What's your reason?"  
  
"When you're as heavily invested as we are." Fred began, his jaw tight.  
  
George, sensing the danger, cut him off. ".in your happiness, Ron! We just want to see you happy!"  
  
"No," Ron said slowly. "I thought we just established that that wasn't it. I must be near the mark because you're repeating yourselves." There was something in the way he was looking at them that reminded George of playing chess against him. And losing. "So if you're not 'heavily invested' in my 'happiness', then what are you invested in? Something that has to do with Hermione and me liking her?"  
  
"Uh."  
  
"We."  
  
"Err."  
  
"Ummm."  
  
The twins were only able to stutter. As they frantically racked their minds for some plausible story to tell their annoyingly smart younger brother, Ron seemed to stumble upon his own answer.  
  
"Hey, Fred, I'd sure hate to have to tell Mum about what I found in your..."  
  
Fred's eyes widened in fear. "It's a bet!" Fred burst out, cutting off Ron's threat of blackmail before he could even finish it.  
  
George covered his eyes in defeat. He had no idea what dirty secret Ron knew about Fred, but it must have been something simply horrible, or he'd surely have informed his twin. If Fred hadn't seen fit to tell him, George didn't think he wanted to know.  
  
"Bet!" Ron's eyes were wide. "I should have known. So then, what are the terms of this bet?" His voice was venomous.  
  
George sighed. Their cover was blown, so they might as well tell all. "It's been going for the past three years. People pick days on a calendar and whoever picks the day you and Hermione finally get together wins the jackpot."  
  
"And you two picked the next few days and wanted to hurry me along?"  
  
"Actually, the next two weeks!" Fred said brightly. "Gives you a bit of a time cushion, doesn't it?" Both his brothers glared at him.  
  
George turned back to Ron and continued, "That's actually only about half of the bet; the other part is about which of you will be the one to.initiate things."  
  
"Odds have been at least 3:1 on Hermione for awhile now, due to the fact that you're so bloody clueless." Fred told Ron, who looked very angry indeed.  
  
"Look, Ron," George tried to calm his brother's indignation. "People started betting on you and Hermione because everyone can see that you really like each other, below all that fighting. We all know you'll get together eventually; it's just a question of when and how. It's fun to watch you two and wonder when you'll finally wake up to how crazy you really are about each other."  
  
"Could all of Gryffindor be wrong?" Fred asked, grinning.  
  
"All Gryffindor?" Ron sounded amazed. "They all--"  
  
"Everyone in our house has placed a bet at one time or another." George said with a shrug.  
  
"Except you and Hermione, of course." Fred amended.  
  
"Even Harry?" Ron asked.  
  
"Oh, Harry!" George laughed. "He thinks it'll happen on the Hogwarts Express! He's already booked the last days of the next three school years!"  
  
"And he was the one who originally predicted that Hermione would make the first move! Lee asked him for help setting the odds, since he's your best friend and he'd know these things, of course, and he said that Hermione flat-out told you to ask her to the next ball!" Fred went on.  
  
"Is that true?" George asked gleefully.  
  
Ron didn't respond, appearing completely dumbfounded at the extent of the conspiracy. He made to leave, presumably to go pound Harry for not telling him about this, but Fred grabbed his arm to stop him. "You won't tell anyone, will you? Lee'll have our heads if he knew we told you about the bet."  
  
Ron vaguely shook his head and began to walk away.  
  
George called after him, "Think about it, Ron! You two were made for each other!"  
  
Ron turned around and gave a bitter laugh. "You know what? Now I'm going to make it a point not to think about Hermione Granger, just so this whole bet thing falls through."  
  
Fred and George looked at each other, panicked. Had they just ruined the entire bet?  
  
Fred yelled at Ron's back, "Would you think about her for three hundred Galleons?"  
  
His words fell flat into a long, deep silence. All three were frozen.  
  
Ron halted and turned around, shocked. "What?"  
  
George looked at Fred, completely surprised. "Huh?"  
  
Fred muttered to George, "A third cut. We should have enough with six hundred from this and the eight hundred we have left from--" he glanced at Ron "--our very generous benefactor."  
  
George did the math. It would work. But it left him feeling queasy. However, his thoughts were interrupted by Ron's incredulous voice.  
  
"How much did you say?"  
  
The twins looked back at him, stunned.  
  
"Three hundred Galleons." George choked out.  
  
Ron just stared at them a long time, his expression unreadable, then turned and left.  
  
"So did he agree to it?" Fred asked anxiously.  
  
"I don't know," George murmured. He turned to Fred. "I can't believe you just did that."  
  
"What?" Fred asked.  
  
"We are now bribing our brother to go out with a girl."  
  
Fred laughed, "Yeah, maybe it would have been easier if we'd got right down to the money from the start."  
  
"But if it's true love and all, they shouldn't need money." George protested, feeling silly.  
  
"They need something." Fred said, frustrated, running his hand through his hair. "Five years and nothing doing."  
  
George sighed. Fred had a bit of a point. Besides, George couldn't think of any better idea, and the damage already seemed to have been done. The Weasley twins' specialty was childish pranks, not romantic intrigues.  
  
A/N: Next chapter: Can Ron REALLY stop thinking about Hermione? (what do you think?) Thanks for reading, please review! 


	4. To Think or Not to Think

Don't Bet on Love  
  
Chapter Four: To Think or Not to Think  
  
"Think about it, Ron!" The words echoed in Ron's head as he walked back to the Gryffindor common room. Twice in a day. He was already finding it hard to keep the promise he'd just made. It was as if someone had told him, "Don't think about a hippogriff!" What did the very hearing of that warning automatically force him to think about? Hermione.  
  
Ron walked in the portrait hole, joined Harry at the table where he was studying, and got out his Astronomy charts. But he quickly became annoyed at how hard it was to concentrate on the little twinkling constellations on his scrolls.  
  
"Where is she?" he wondered irritably, and then he immediately cursed himself for thinking it. He looked back down at the scroll, where patterns of books, quills, and flying horses were quickly forming.  
  
There was a disturbance on the other side of the common room and, glad for the interruption, Ron glanced up. Fred and George, of course. Filibuster's Fireworks in Dean Thomas's pants pockets. "Those idiots." Ron thought, scowling. The idea that his twin brothers were idiots crossed his mind fairly often, but this time the sentiment was decidedly less affectionate. Ron could not believe that Fred had actually offered him money to.he was unable to even complete the thought. They weren't serious, were they? Ron sincerely hoped they hadn't been. That was just so...wrong. It made him feel like--well, like the male counterpart to a "scarlet woman."  
  
When he returned to the scroll and instantly saw the letters SPEW written in tiny stars, Ron just blinked and decided it was pointless. He rolled it up and got out Quidditch Through the Ages. Surely he could concentrate on this.  
  
But Hermione chose that moment to walk through the portrait hole and set her stack of books on the table near Ron. And, as much as Ron tried to ignore her, he was acutely aware of her every movement. He noticed the flicker behind her eyes as she noticed what he was reading; he felt positive that she was simply longing to tell him that he should do his Astronomy instead. But instead she flashed him a quick smile, which Ron halfheartedly returned, and bent over her Arithmancy book. He wondered if the incident with Justinian had anything to do with it; normally Hermione relished in nagging him to death. Ron almost wished she had said something to him about his homework, as it would have given him an excuse to talk to her. "I wonder if I'm allowed to talk to her?" He thought worriedly. He wasn't even supposed to think about her. But surely he'd only meant that he wouldn't think about her like THAT....right?  
  
Ron gave an exasperated sigh, causing Harry to look up at him from across the table. Harry looked questioningly at him, but then he noticed Hermione sitting next to Ron, and raised his eyebrows meaningfully. Ron shot Harry a dirty look, and returned to his book.  
  
But it was even harder to concentrate than before. That single look from Harry was more unsettling than all of the twins' rantings and insinuations. "We're his best friends, I suppose he would know...Why did I save her?..." Ron wondered.  
  
"No!" said another, firmer voice in his head. "Not going to think about it! Hippogriffs, hippogriffs, hippogriffs...Hermione...Hippogriffs, hippogriffs..."  
  
A/N: Next chapter: Ron's attitude forces Fred and George to formulate a new, more drastic plan. Thanks for reading, please review! 


	5. Revising the Plan

Chapter 5: Revising the Plan  
  
"It's the 18th, Fred!" George's annoyed voice rose over the dull roar of the common room.  
  
"I know what day it is, George!" Fred's equally annoyed voice answered.  
  
"He hasn't--"  
  
"I know he hasn't! He hasn't even spoken to her in days!" Fred flopped down into a chair, extremely frustrated.  
  
George sighed. It was true. Ron seemed to be avoiding Hermione. The twins had been watching their activities closely, and they hadn't seen the two really talk at all, even over meals. Ron talked to Harry instead, and Hermione talked to Ginny, or sometimes Neville. Ron was never in the library, and he hadn't challenged Hermione to a game of chess in ages. It was almost enough to make George wonder if the terms of the bet were completely wrong. Did Ron really not like Hermione? George was puzzled; that couldn't be it. He'd seen the way his brother had looked at Krum at the Yule Ball. Was Ron actually carrying through with that threat he'd made in the corridor, that he wouldn't even think about Hermione? Had the idea of the bet disgusted him that badly?  
  
"Fred, I don't think we should have offered him a cut."  
  
"No, I reckon that was pretty dumb of me." Fred admitted.  
  
George nodded. He certainly wasn't going to deny that. Let his twin take the full responsibility for his own mistake, for once.  
  
Fred knew it was his own fault; he'd gone against their superstition by taking such an important step without first talking to his twin about it. He'd acted on impulse, without thinking at all. All the problems that they were running into with this plan traced back to things they'd said to Ron without first discussing and agreeing upon a unified course of action. It hadn't been totally their fault; Ron had caught them off guard by figuring them out. They had counted on their younger brother being a bit more dense. That assumption had never failed them in the past.  
  
"It's just made things worse." Fred went on. "If the money really motivated him, he'd have done something by now, I think. Or at least he wouldn't be avoiding her."  
  
"Do you think we should try to talk to him again? Maybe if we told him the bet's off, or that we don't care about winning..."  
  
"He'd know we're lying through our teeth. Now he's got an idea how much money's at stake, there's no way he'd ever believe us."  
  
George knew his twin was right. Something else from that conversation with Ron was still haunting him. "Fred, do you think he's..."  
  
"Doing like he said he would and not thinking about her?" Fred snickered. "Yeah, right. He looks at her too much not to think about her."  
  
"Yeah," George smirked. That was also true. The twins had observed Ron staring absently at Hermione on many occasions in the past week. A couple times, when he thought no one was looking, Ron had even covertly smiled at her, almost as if he was apologizing for avoiding her. "It's like he can't really stop thinking about her, but he's trying to do the next best thing and make everyone else think he's stopped thinking about her."  
  
"That's it exactly, George!" Fred exclaimed, standing up and pacing in his excitement. "So what that means is we've got to get them away from the people he thinks he's got to fool."  
  
"And then he'll feel free to talk to her again..."  
  
"Or snog her senseless..."  
  
"We just need to find a way to get them alone..."  
  
"And gather evidence to win the bet at the same time!" Fred finished triumphantly.  
  
"Evidence?" asked George. He could literally hear alarm bells going off in his head.  
  
"Sure, I reckon a good photo of them kissing would do it." Fred said frankly, going on to explain more fully. "The thing is, I'm afraid that even if we get them alone and they do talk and stuff, they'll come out of that room just the way they are now, stubbornly avoiding each other. The way they fight sometimes, I mean, can't you imagine that it'll just spark off an even bigger argument than the Yule Ball? And if that happens, there's no way Lee would believe we had won the bet. There's a lot of money at stake for him too."  
  
Fred saw the now-familiar doubtful look on George's face, and knew how he had to spin it to get his twin's support. "It's for their own good; if we have a photo like that, no one will ever believe they aren't together, no matter how vehemently they deny it. And if everyone treats them like they're an item and there's a picture, physical evidence, attesting to their incredible attraction, then they won't be able to keep apart!"  
  
George looked conflicted. Fred sighed.  
  
"Look, George, it's just...insurance. Of course our goal is that they come out happy and holding hands. And if they do, then there's no reason to do anything with the picture; we can just give it to them, have a laugh and tell the story to their grandchildren. But their.relationship is so unpredictable and volatile--the situation needs what Mum calls 'tough love.' If we really want them together, we need to make sure they can't just forget about whatever happens in that room."  
  
Fred could tell George's logical defenses against his plan were quickly breaking down. He knew exactly what would clinch the deal too, but was reluctant to bring it up.  
  
"Remember what you told me about you and Katie? The night after we won the Quidditch Cup? And remember how nothing ever came of it? Just a stolen half hour of...whatever...and then just friends again. Neither of you knew what to make of it, or what the other wanted, so you just let it slip away, whatever it was. Isn't regret a horrible thing? Now, if the next day, everyone in Gryffindor had known, and considered you a couple, like it or not, don't you think you and Katie would have worked it out? That's all we're doing." Fred concluded.  
  
George couldn't say no. Fred knew him so well. He was completely convinced. Perhaps this way really was best for Ron and Hermione. They might not immediately realize it, but hopefully, after the initial shock, after they realize that the feeling is mutual, then they'll just laugh at the whole ridiculous situation.  
  
But Fred wasn't done. He lowered his voice, "You're not hearing it from me, but a source very close to Katie's heart, and mine, says that Katie...would not be entirely opposed to...another night in the broom shed."  
  
George was taken aback and definitely pleased. He felt his ears turning red and a silly grin stretching across his face. "Really! Angelina said...well! Then I, um, suppose we'll need an empty classroom, a locking charm Hermione won't know..."  
  
Fred smiled conspiratorially, "A camera, a recording spell wouldn't hurt, and butterbeers and snacks for the party afterwards--"  
  
"Party?" George asked. He was sure the couple wouldn't appreciate the attention.  
  
"Sure, a party!" Fred said good-naturedly. "We agreed that we need to make sure they can't deny what happens. What better way than to make it public? They certainly haven't been shy about arguing in public."  
  
George nodded. There was no denying that. They would already be embarrassing Ron and Hermione this much; what was the point of drawing the line, especially when they could be having a party? "All right, why not? Besides, we haven't had a good party in, what?, a week?"  
  
"I like the way you think, George!" Fred laughed. He ticked off one last item on his fingers, "Harry's invisibility cloak would really come in handy."  
  
"You think he'd really loan it to us?" George asked reverently. The sheer scope of possibilities that that cloak offered to its owner had always awed him.  
  
"He'd do anything for those two. And he's always up for a bit of mischief."  
  
"He could use a laugh." Fred and George grinned at each other, thinking of the day Harry had given them his Triwizard winnings. The things Harry had said to them that day had made their work feel important, as if making fake wands and Canary Creams was almost on par with fighting Death Eaters. They knew that comparing themselves to Harry Potter was utterly ridiculous, on a level where it wasn't even funny, but they also knew the restorative powers of a good belly laugh. In a way, the Weasley twins were in the front lines of a war--they were fighting against collective despair, using the only weapon they knew how, humor. They considered Harry's words at King's Cross their unofficial motto: "We could all do with a few laughs."  
  
The twins sat down to begin planning in earnest.  
  
A/N: next, the plan is set in motion. 


	6. Poised and Ready

Chapter 6: Poised and Ready  
  
It was all set up. It had come together quickly, silently and perfectly, like the best of the twins' plots. George couldn't help congratulating himself on the ease with which everything had fallen into place.  
  
Harry had gladly loaned them the invisibility cloak, although with quite a few warnings on its safekeeping.  
  
Last night they had gone into Hogsmeade via the secret pasageway for all the butterbeer and Honeydukes sweets they could carry. Everything else they could get from the kitchens at the last minute.  
  
Fred had refreshed his memory on a simple spell to use his wand to record sounds. They had used this loads of times before.  
  
George had looked up a complex locking charm in one of Bill's old spellbooks. He was honestly surprised when he found he and Fred could both make it work-even Hermione wasn't this advanced.  
  
Colin Creevey was the only person they could think of who owned a camera. His Muggle one would have been good enough, but it turned out that Colin had invested in a wizard camera over the summer. Fred had no choice but to use it, as it was the only one available, but George was wary about how the photo would turn out.  
  
They were planning on using the Charms classroom. Fred, the forgery specialist, had written out a note from Professor Flitwick asking Hermione to meet him there, to discuss a recent particularly exceptional essay. Hermione had such great relationships with all of her professors (except Snape, of course) that this would seem perfectly plausible. Fred had even added a postscript telling her that Flitwick may be late, so she would be sure to stick around until George brought Ron to the classroom. George would then lock Ron in the room with Hermione, and leave to begin the festivities in the common room.  
  
Fred would already be in the classroom when Hermione got there, underneath Harry's cloak, holding Colin Creevey's camera, ready to record the words and actions of the young couple.  
  
George was in charge of the most difficult part of the entire plan: convincing Ron to trust him long enough to follow him to the Charms room. This was a serious problem; ever since their conversation about Hermione and the bet, Ron had been openly hostile toward his brothers. George figured his safest bet would be to play off all the adventures Ron had had with Harry and Hermione. He wouldn't expressly say that Hermione was in mortal peril, but if Ron jumped to that conclusion and it compelled him to follow, well, George certainly wouldn't stop him. Harry would have to be out of the way, so that it would be impossible to take him along; that was obviously the first thing Ron would suggest. It was cruel and horrible, George knew it, but it was the only way to make sure Ron would come along. George was sure that if he tried anything else, it was more than probable that Ron would guess something was up, and only roll his eyes.  
  
A/N: next, what happens in the Charms room? Thanks for reading, please review! 


	7. An Absolutely Impartial Test

Chapter 7: An Absolutely Impartial Test  
  
Ron was lazing about the common room, doing nothing in particular except wondering vaguely about Harry and Hermione's whereabouts and idly considering going down to the kitchens for a snack, when George burst through the portrait hole. Ron watched, wary and alert, from his slouched position on the couch, as George stumbled into the common room, breathless, looking wildly around. When he spotted his brother, George quickly made toward him, and Ron found himself getting worried, despite his instinct to distrust the twins. George's manner reminded him of the way Professor Quirrell had acted when he warned them about the troll. Later, Ron realized that if he had had the time and presence of mind, he would have been able to take that image to its conclusion and remember that Quirrell had planted the troll. But the next thing that George said banished all rational thought from Ron's head.  
  
"It's Hermione!"  
  
A cold fear instantly filled Ron. He stood up, and asked frantically, "What happened? Where is she? Where's Harry?"  
  
"He's fine. But he can't come. You have to follow me." George said urgently. He walked quickly back toward the portrait hole, and Ron dashed after him.  
  
Ron tried to get more information out of George as they ran to...wherever, but he either didn't know much or was too distraught to say. Ron was too preoccupied with horrible mental pictures to pay any attention to where they were going.  
  
George finally slowed to a stop and rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He pointed to a door. Ron eyed it warily, opened it cautiously but decidedly. He found himself in...the Charms classroom? But never mind that, there was Hermione, in the front of the room near Flitwick's desk. Ron hurried over to her. He put his hands on her arms and almost shook her, demanding to know if she was all right.  
  
"Of course I'm all right, Ron. What's your problem?"  
  
"George said you were in trouble. What's wrong?"  
  
Hermione appeared completely mystified. "Nothing. I was just waiting here to meet with Professor Flitwick and you burst in..."  
  
Ron was silent a moment, utterly confused. He looked around the room, taking in the total lack of apparent danger. "You mean nobody's trying to kill you or Petrify you or curse you or..."  
  
"No! Where'd you get that idea?"  
  
"George said..." Ron said. It was slowly dawning on him what had happened. "George. They...no..." He ran over to the door, thinking to catch George and demand to know what was going on, and found that he couldn't open it. The full meaning of the situation occurred to him for the first time. Reddening at the thought, he wildly tried to turn the nob, and beat on the door when that wouldn't work, yelling curses to his brothers.  
  
Hermione seemed to have no idea how to take his behavior. "What is the problem, Ron?!" she asked, irritated.  
  
"We're locked in!" Ron said heatedly, pounding on the door one last time before turning away from it in defeat.  
  
"Oh, honestly, Ron, how many times have I had to show you this simple spell?" Hermione pulled out her wand and pointed it at the lock. "Alohomora!" she said confidently, and tried the nob herself. She was shocked when it didn't turn. She tried it a second time, disbelieving. "Ron," Hermione said in a shaky voice. "What's this about?" She sounded vaguely afraid, and didn't put her wand away.  
  
Ron was concentrating on his anger at the twins because it felt safer and more normal than even beginning to think about the fact that he was alone with Hermione in a locked room. "Fred and George locked us in." he fumed.  
  
Hermione lowered her wand. "Why'd they do that?" she asked, clearly perplexed.  
  
Ron, still speaking in anger toward his brothers, blurted out in a disgusted voice, "Because there's a bet."  
  
This did nothing to lessen Hermione's confusion. "A bet? On what? Why would they..."  
  
Her question reminded Ron of what he had been trying to forget for almost two weeks. Immediately flustered and blushing at the very idea, Ron stuttered a second. He considered lying but finally gave up, figuring that he could never maintain the ability to think of a lie complex enough to explain their situation with Hermione so close, and her eyes so piercing. He looked away. "About us. They bet on us."  
  
"Us...what about us?" Hermione still didn't understand. "I mean, I don't play Quidditch."  
  
Ron laughed dryly at the idea. Quidditch bets suddenly seemed so harmless. He had a lot of trouble bringing himself to explain the terms of the bet. "Not Quidditch...it's about...us...being...together..."  
  
"Well, we're together now, aren't we?" Hermione asked sensibly.  
  
"Uh...no...I mean...together..." Ron said, praying he wouldn't have to spell it out for her.  
  
"Oh." Hermione's eyes widened as she finally understood. There was a pause. Then Hermione's tone and expression changed. "Well, I don't know what right they think they have, how it's any of their business..."  
  
"I know!" Ron agreed, looking up, amazed that she reacted to it the same way he had. "They said it's been going on for three years!"  
  
"Three years!" Hermione repeated, astounded. "And we never knew..."  
  
"I don't know how they kept it from us either! Everyone in Gryffindor has bet on us! The whole school but us knew about it! Are we that clueless?"  
  
"Apparently so!" Hermione answered, irked. "They're betting on...?" She asked uncertainly for specifics, which Ron uncomfortably provided.  
  
"When. And...uh...how...."  
  
"How?" Hermione looked horrified. "They'd spy on us to figure out how..."  
  
"Well, I wouldn't put it past them!" Ron asserted. "What I meant was, they're also betting on which of us would..." No, he still couldn't finish the thought.  
  
"Well, that's just sick!" Hermione said. "How do you know all this anyway?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
"They told me. Fred and George. I kind of.made them." Ron said, feeling like he was bragging about having scored a point against a common enemy.  
  
"Ooh. How?" Hermione asked gleefully. Ron felt a thrill at her tone; she sounded interested and almost.proud. God, he had missed her.  
  
"Well, I've got some dirt on Fred. Or, at least, he thinks I do..." Ron smiled conspiratorially at Hermione, who grinned back wickedly. He thought he heard something from the other side of the room, but didn't see anything when he looked.  
  
"What I don't understand," Hermione said wonderingly. "is where on earth they got that idea about us?"  
  
Ron felt something cold in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't sure why his instinct was suddenly to defend everyone they'd just badmouthed for the past few minutes. "Well, I guess we do...uh...hang out a lot..." he said slowly. . "But Harry's always there too! I guess they all just got sick of pairing me with him." Hermione said thoughtfully. Ron's stomach now seemed to have disappeared. But then she went on, changing gears. "But I suppose our arguments have been rather..."  
  
Ron was endlessly relieved to hear her admit that the idea was not so absurd. "Public." He supplied, euphemistically.  
  
"Yes." Hermione agreed, with a slight smile. Ron's stomach suddenly seemed to have returned, and was now rather warm. "And then there was the..." Yule Ball.  
  
"Yeah." Ron cut in. He silently thanked her for not saying it out loud. There was a pause. The unbearable question that Ron had been avoiding for the past two weeks came to the surface of his thoughts and would not be fought down. "So....then...why aren't we?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Together."  
  
"Oh." With one syllable, Hermione showed she understood the gravity of the question. It seemed to make her nervous and flustered. She rambled in her answer, and avoided his eyes. "I don't know. That question seems a bit backwards, don't you think? I mean, I should think that people need a reason to become a couple; they don't get together just because they can't think of a reason not to."  
  
"Everyone else thinks we should be." Ron said wryly. "They're all betting on it. Literally."  
  
"Well, I'm not likely to do something like that just because people say I should." Hermione declared stubbornly.  
  
"But when it's so many people, can they all be wrong?"  
  
Hermione sighed. "A lot of people think there's no such thing as magic, and a lot of people thought Harry was the heir of Slytherin, and a lot of people still think Sirius betrayed the Potters, and a lot of people are telling themselves that You-Know-Who isn't back, and a lot of people..."  
  
Ron got her point at the first example, but found he had to argue against it. "But maybe some of them know what they're talking about."  
  
"What do you mean, Ron?" Hermione asked wearily.  
  
"Harry said..."  
  
"Harry?" Hermione stuttered a moment, unnerved. "Well, I suppose he would know better than anyone.I can see now why you brought it up." There was a pause as Hermione took in this information. Ron was relieved that she finally saw a logical reason behind his questions. He wouldn't be asking them if he hadn't been provoked by Harry and the twins; lay the blame on them. "So Harry thinks we should be together." Hermione stated. Ron nodded. "I'd have thought he wouldn't want it; he shouldn't have to be a fifth wheel."  
  
"He's nicer than that."  
  
"I know."  
  
Another pause.  
  
"And...he wouldn't be." Ron said softly, looking down, almost hoping Hermione wouldn't hear. He thought she might not have, it took her that long to answer.  
  
"I know." She finally said, in an even softer voice. Ron looked up at her, but she was preoccupied with her hands.  
  
"So...um...do you?" Ron asked, wondering at his own nerve.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Think we..." Ron couldn't finish it.  
  
"Oh." An unbearable pause. "I don't know. Do you?"  
  
Had her offhand, baffled tone been at all forced? Ron didn't have time to contemplate it before answering her; his pride wouldn't allow him to admit to anything that she wouldn't readily, even gladly admit to. "I don't know." He said immediately. If she didn't know, then he certainly didn't!  
  
The next silence between them lasted a long time. Ron's mind was running wild, trying to think of a way to end the awkwardness, and when it stumbled upon the fateful idea, he cursed it. He knew that this idea would just consume his every thought until it was acted upon. There was nothing he could do, really. He had to suggest it.  
  
"Um, Hermione?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I think...there's a way we could...figure it out."  
  
"What?"  
  
"If we."  
  
"Yes, I know, what is it?" Hermione understood what he meant, and almost sounded.impatient.  
  
"I could..." Dare he say it? "...kiss you." He got it out as quickly as he could without slurring. He dared to look up at her, knowing his face was burning at the thought. Her eyebrows had shot up to the middle of her forehead. He had to explain himself a little better. He couldn't let her think he was just using this as some lame excuse. "And then we'll know, see? Once and for all. If it's awful, then we'd know they're all wrong about us, and we're just friends, and that's that. And.if it's.not awful, then.uh.we'll know that too."  
  
There was another pause, even more painful for Ron than the last. But it didn't last quite as long.  
  
"All right." Hermione said decidedly, briskly. Ron looked up, surprised. He hadn't known what he expected her to say, or even really what he wanted her to say. She went on, speaking in a detached, almost scientific tone, "You're right, an impartial test is in order. It's the only way to...settle things."  
  
"Okay, then." Ron breathed. He couldn't help staring at her mouth. The two steps between them suddenly seemed like an insurmountable distance. They crossed it with many small steps, each one much too quick and much, much too slow.  
  
When they seemed close enough, Ron uncertainly put one (probably sweaty) hand on her waist, looking down at her apprehensively. She appeared just as nervous, but her eyes also seemed to communicate.trust. Ron brushed her jawline lightly with two tentative fingers, for better aim, as they leaned together slowly, averting their eyes at the last moment.  
  
And then they just stood there, lips just stuck together as if made of spellotape, utterly frozen.  
  
'What now?' Ron thought, panicked. It somehow hadn't occurred to him until this moment that this was his first kiss.and he hadn't any idea how to go about doing it. He gulped, causing his lips to move slightly against Hermione's for the first time since they had come together. That tiniest shift was enough to break the spell of fear and uncertainty that had kept them motionless, and Ron soon found her lower lip caught between his. His mind gave a silent cheer, as it seemed like it would be easier from this angle; he was surprised at how determined he was to do this well. Oh, her lips were so soft! Like silk and velvet; smooth but not without texture. Ron suddenly heard a chorus of voices in his head saying, 'Think about it, Ron!' and realized that for once, it was easy to ignore them: he was otherwise occupied. Gently, hesitantly, experimentally, Ron applied a small pressure, wishing he could control his accelerating pulse and growing feeling of lightheadedness. He found that her lips were also kind of.cushy; they gave under his just enough, like a pillow that both cushions and supports your head. His fingers just itched to tangle themselves in her hair.  
  
'I think I...but does she...?' Ron wondered, just before.  
  
Flash.  
  
A/N: Next, the party, the recording, and the infamous photo! Thanks for reading, please review! 


	8. The Photo

A/N: All right, I know that I didn't get it all out before book 5, but I did my best, believe me! And I apologize that this fic really doesn't fit the much-less-insecure, coming-into-his-own Prefect Keeper Ron of book 5. Not to mention that Harry never yells at anyone in this fic. Oh well. Thought I'd finish it anyway, as some people seemed to enjoy the beginning. Hope you like this chapter!  
  
Chapter 8: The Photo  
  
Ron heard the click of the camera rather than saw its flash. He froze, and opened his eyes only to find Hermione's eyes also open and worried and very close. He pulled away, wishing ardently that he didn't have to, but very uneasy about whatever it was that had disturbed them. His mind was racing and every thought led back to the twins. Ron and Hermione both looked wildly around the room. They didn't see any person, but there, in the corner, hovering in the air, was a cloud of the purply smoke created by...  
  
"A wizarding camera!" Hermione groaned.  
  
Ron was already pushing desks out of the way, crossing over to the place that appeared to be the source of the smoke, asking himself why Harry had loaned the twins his cloak. "Fred?" he called out, waving his arms around. He touched something solid, and one of the desks moved. Ron stepped more aggressively toward the spot where he thought Fred was, and a moment later, saw Fred on the ground, having tripped over the cloak in a frantic effort to avoid his brother.  
  
Fred squealed at the sight of Ron's angry face, dashed up and ran away, clutching the camera. He performed the spell at the door, and raced down the hall.  
  
"Come on!" Ron yelled to Hermione, running after Fred. She picked up the Invisibility Cloak, and followed quickly.  
  
Outside the door, Ron paused to look each way for Fred. He saw a foot disappearing around a corner just as Hermione bumped into him from behind. He grabbed her hand and pointed out Fred's path, "That way!" They were both desperate to get that camera; Ron could imagine all too well the social repercussions of such a picture in the twins' possession.  
  
Fred's path eventually led them back to the Fat Lady's portrait. Ron and Hermione both blurted the password at the same time ("Midsummer!"), and exchanged a nervous glance as it swung open. What would they find in the common room?  
  
A crowd was staring at them, smiling and cheering, holding butterbeers. Ron reddened, and remembered that he was holding Hermione's hand. He dropped it hastily, his lips suddenly tingling with the memory of kissing her. He was sure that exactly what had happened, and his every thought about it, was written clearly on his face.  
  
Ron's first instinct was to bolt, but already there were arms pulling him and Hermione into the common room. Harry, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were first to greet them. Ron went right for Fred and George, his step murderous, but the twins only put their arms around him, laughing. Harry handed them both butterbeers, and Hermione gave him back his cloak, looking up to glare at him for helping with this plot. But Harry's knowing smile utterly defeated her anger, and she looked back down in embarrassment.  
  
Lee Jordan took a hand from each of them, and shook them profusely. "So is it true? You two? The Charms room?" He wagged his eyebrows at them, grinning, the innuendo in his voice unmistakable. The room quieted to hear an answer.  
  
"Uh..." Ron said uncertainly. He didn't know whether or not he should lie, or, more importantly, whether or not Hermione wanted him to lie. If that picture came out, then it wouldn't matter. He looked to Hermione for guidance, but only saw his own panic.  
  
"Got proof!" Fred spoke up, waving the camera. "Audio and visual! Shall we...um...put on a show?" The suggestion was highly agreeable to the crowd of bored Gryffindors. Ron seriously considered grabbing Harry's Invisibility Cloak just to be able to hide.  
  
"Proof?" Lee sounded surprised, but definitely pleased, as if this was more than he had expected.  
  
"Of course!" George exclaimed. "We have to...protect our investment." he muttered to Lee, whose eyes widened.  
  
"I think you'll find," Fred said loudly, addressing the group, "as Hermione surely has," he winked at her. "that our dear younger brother has his own share of Gryffindor courage and Weasley charm. In that classroom, Ron asked Hermione...a very pointed question...no, two...and then he made a suggestion that I found simply shocking." Fred was milking it for all it was worth, and the crowd was lapping it up.  
  
Lee looked astounded. "You mean he was the one..."  
  
"Oh, yes." Fred nodded, very pleased with himself.  
  
Lee's face was pale, probably because he had just calculated his losses, but he managed to say brightly, and sharply, "I'm glad you have proof, or I wouldn't believe it!"  
  
Fred set about to fiddling with his wand, George listening in. They were obviously trying to find the right spot in the conversation to magically amplify. Ron instantly understood what he was doing, and, completely horrified at the idea, tried to run for his dorms, although he knew it would do no good. But Dean, Seamus, and Neville blocked him, and he finally gave up and stood uncomfortably where he had been, next to Hermione. Ron decided it would be better to stay anyway, because at least then he would know the exact extent of the damage. And he could possibly gage Hermione's reaction. He hadn't had time in the Charms room.  
  
"Here it is!" Fred announced. The room's excited chatter died away, and Ron heard his own voice fill the room. For as loud as it was, it sounded surprisingly small and insecure.  
  
*So...then...why aren't we?*  
  
*What?*  
  
*Together.*  
  
"Ooooo!" There was a collective gasp as everyone comprehended how serious such a question was. Fred, satisfied with the response, was about to cut it there, but Lee spoke up, demanding to hear Hermione's answer.  
  
*I don't know. That question seems a bit backward, don't you think? I mean, I should think people need a reason to become a couple, they don't get together just because they can't think of a reason not to.*  
  
Most of the crowd seemed very disappointed with that answer. They wanted action, not rhetorical questions. The outcry produced was sufficient to force Lee to allow Fred to cut the recording and work on finding a later spot. Ron suspected that Fred was purposely trying to avoid the spots in the conversation where they had openly discussed the bet. It probably wouldn't go over well.  
  
Harry was the one person who seemed satisfied with Hermione's response. He whispered in Ron's ear, "See, she was flustered! She hates not knowing the answer, and you showed her she'd been wrong. She had assumed you were the reason."  
  
Harry probably would have gone on a bit longer, and Ron could have thought his words over a while if he'd been left to it, but Fred was now ready with the next clip. Harry seemed surprised when his name came up.  
  
*So Harry thinks we should be together.* Hermione's voice said. This produced cheers from the crowd for their beloved Seeker, "Tell 'em, Harry!" Hermione's voice went on, *I'd have thought he wouldn't want it; he shouldn't have to be a fifth wheel.* At this, Ron glanced at Harry, who looked as if this rather ridiculous idea had never occurred to him.  
  
*He's nicer than that.*  
  
*I know.*  
  
"Aww." said the crowd, and Harry looked down, smiling slightly.  
  
*And...he wouldn't be.* The crowd reacted strongly to that statement. The implication that Ron had thought about it was not overlooked.  
  
*I know.* Hermione's response got a still louder reaction. It completely filled the long pause in the recording. Ron felt worse when she was being made fun of than when he was getting it himself. He wished he could have taken her hand, anything to help her, reassure her, apologize for it, but he knew how his classmates would take it, and, worse, didn't know how she would.  
  
*So...um...do you?* Ron's voice sounded so pathetically tentative, he was disgusted with himself. He thought he heard some girls murmuring about how they thought his insecurity was 'adorable'.  
  
*What?*  
  
*Think we.*  
  
*Oh.* More whoops and hollers. *I don't know. Do you?* Ron listened carefully to Hermione's answer, and this time was able to detect only a certain guardedness that kept him from telling what was really behind it.  
  
*I don't know.* However, his own reply sounded very forced. He was obviously lying.  
  
"Sure, you do!" Ginny called from the crowd, eliciting claps of agreement.  
  
"And the clincher!" Fred announced gleefully. Ron glared at him.  
  
*Um, Hermione?*  
  
*Yes?*  
  
*I think...there's a way we could...figure it out.* Some people seemed to get the idea at this. Eyes widened, and mouths were covered, and giggles began. Ron gritted his teeth.  
  
*What?*  
  
*If we...*  
  
*Yes, I know, what is it?*  
  
"Bit eager, Hermione?" Fred asked cheekily.  
  
"Shut up." Ron was surprised to hear himself finally defend her. It felt like a reflex. He glanced at Hermione, who he found was looking at him, only slightly surprised. He didn't seem able to tear his eyes away, and they continued looking at each other as the next words came out. What was she thinking? If only they'd been left alone.  
  
*I could.kiss you.* The uproar was instantaneous, and almost deafening. The crowd jostled Ron and Hermione in its excitement. He felt Harry slap him on the back, heard him laughing, heard cheers and people calling for the picture. Fred and George decided not to bother with the rest of the recording, and instead asked Colin to help them set up the picture so everyone could see.  
  
Soon, on the blank wall over the fireplace, there was a projection of the photo, much like the one Ron's Uncle Bilius had once used to use to show his vacation pictures. Everyone quieted.  
  
Ron saw himself mouth, 'Okay, then.'  
  
"How long did he have that camera trained on us?" he muttered absently.  
  
In the picture, he was moving glacially toward Hermione. Ron hated to watch, but he certainly couldn't look away. He quickly glanced nervously at Hermione, next to him, whose complete attention was taken by the moving picture.  
  
It was the strangest sensation to watch himself... Ron relived every moment as he saw it on the wall.  
  
And everyone was watching.  
  
His fingers touched near her chin, and Lavender Brown said loudly how the way he had touched Hermione's face was so sweet. Ron hadn't realized that he had left that hand suspended in the air above her shoulder after it had served its purpose guiding his lips to hers. It looked rather funny hovering there, undecided, in limbo.  
  
He saw their lips touch, and watched the agonizing moments of inaction; the crowd seemed frozen with them. There was his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped; a few of the older guys gave appreciative, sympathetic chuckles.  
  
He ventured to glance at the other half of the picture. It didn't help him figure out what she had thought. His cheek was blocking a bit of her face. Oh, right there, she was moving a little; she had shifted her weight. He didn't think he had really been aware of it at the time, but now he remembered feeling a movement in the hand that he supposed he had left on her hip. It looked like her shoulders faced him a bit more now.  
  
He had squeezed his eyes shut when he had pressed on her lips, as if he was squinting with his eyes closed. "Complete concentration," Seamus cracked, elbowing Ron, who scowled.  
  
And then the camera had flashed, and they had opened their eyes... Why wasn't the camera flashing? They surely hadn't kissed this long...he'd have remembered... That panic-inducing thought had barely occurred to Ron when he saw something that simply floored him.  
  
On the wall, still kissing Hermione, he was suddenly raising his eyebrows. And then the hovering hand wrapped around her shoulders, turning her away from the camera. Just before the picture was filled with the red hair of the back of his head, Ron (and everyone else) saw his mouth open to her, almost hungrily. Whoops and catcalls filled the common room.  
  
Red-faced, Ron quickly turned to Hermione and said, in a tone that both asked and asserted, "That didn't happen."  
  
"No..." she replied, seeming just as confused. Was it just wishful thinking, or did she also sound a bit wistful?  
  
Just then, a group of girls swallowed Hermione into their circle of giggles and chatter, while Harry and the other Gryffindor guys pulled Ron away, clapped him on the back, handed him another butterbeer, and tried to engage him in an earnest conversation about Gryffindor's chances for the Quidditch Cup this year.  
  
So the party went on, fairly late into the night. Ron and Hermione were both constantly surrounded by people who kept the 'new couple' from talking, though they kept glancing nervously at each other from across the room. He wasn't sure what he would say to her anyway, and a couple of times, deliberately maneuvered himself away from her to avoid the awkwardness. Whenever anyone congratulated him, he didn't know if he should vehemently deny it all, or proudly thank them. He ended up doing a strange hybrid: he would smile slightly, but with a worried look in his eye, and give a sort of grunt. People interpreted that as they pleased, as they probably would have no matter what he may have said.  
  
Sometime after midnight, the prefects shooed the younger kids to bed, and only a few people were left in the common room, talking quietly, nursing one last butterbeer, or cleaning up. Ron saw Hermione sitting on a couch in the corner, finally alone. It took him a good five minutes to work up the nerve, but he walked over and sat next to her. She looked up as he sat down, and gave him a tight smile. He noticed that on the coffee table in front of her, there was a small copy of the picture of them kissing. The awkward minutes lengthened.  
  
"So..." Ron said lamely.  
  
"So..." Hermione replied. "I suppose Fred and George got their wish." she said resignedly.  
  
Ron laughed softly. "Yeah, guess so. I hate to think what they'll do with that money."  
  
Hermione looked at her hands. "And it looks like we're together now, like it or not."  
  
Ron was both glad and scared that she had brought it up. He decided to ignore the implied question in the 'like it or not' and simply assert the truth in her statement. "Yeah, we couldn't convince anyone otherwise when they've got this kind of evidence." Ron pointed to the picture. The couple in it seemed to have switched places; now Hermione's bushy hair filled the view. They both looked at it nervously.  
  
"Would you want to?" Hermione said quietly.  
  
Ron's pulse was racing. She was asking him now? But did she mean want to be together or want to tell the others that they weren't? Or-they were looking at the photo-was she asking him if he wanted to kiss her? Or were all those ideas just silly unfounded hopes and she had really meant, would he want to have another butterbeer?  
  
"What?" he asked, uncertainly.  
  
"Convince them we're not..."  
  
She was asking him. Ron knew the reversal was significant but he found he couldn't answer, simply because it was a question--he needed it to be an assertion.  
  
"I don't know. Do you?" he said, knowing it was stupid, knowing he was repeating himself, knowing he was lying.  
  
This seemed to frustrate and anger Hermione. She picked up the photo. "I thought this was supposed to settle that! Don't you tell me we did this for nothing!" She flicked the picture, disturbing its inhabitants. They disappeared a moment as they fell out of the camera's range onto the floor.  
  
"This is so weird," Ron thought as he watched a little version of himself give a little version of Hermione a hand up. "There's a reason we don't take many candid photos with wizard cameras," he muttered. However, Ron realized that the scene in the picture could very well be what would have happened in the classroom had Fred not snapped their picture, the natural course of events following their kiss. The answer to the question.  
  
So he watched, embarrassed but interested, as Picture-Ron rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, took a deep breath and let it out with a nervous chuckle. When he finally dared to look at Picture-Hermione, it was with a questioning kind of hope. Something in his gaze solidified, and, screwing up his courage with a gulp, Picture-Ron leaned over Picture-Hermione and whispered something in her ear as he lightly touched her hair. As he stepped away he brushed her cheekbone with his lips, eyes shut.  
  
Picture-Hermione's back was to Fred's camera during this whole exchange, so Ron could not gage her reaction, but he knew what it felt like to smile the slow, crooked grin that was spreading across Picture-Ron's face as he pulled Picture-Hermione into what looked like it would be another very long kiss. Ron couldn't help noticing that he was feeling jealous of a picture of himself.  
  
"I guess it does settle it," Ron murmured, forcing himself to turn from the picture to the real Hermione. Their eyes met in an intense gaze that seemed to siphon the truth from Ron: "But I already knew."  
  
Hermione blushed with pleasure, but said in her scolding voice, "Then why did you just say you didn't?"  
  
Ron shrugged, "I don't know, I suppose so I don't look like as much of a fool when you say you thought it was horrid and we should stick to sniping at each other."  
  
Just then they were both distracted by a sudden movement in the picture. The couple had turned so that Fred got a good profile shot of the kiss. Picture-Hermione's hand passed in front of the camera on its way to the nape of Ron's neck, where her fingers got lost in his red hair. Her hand then trailed along his jawline, seeming to draw him to her, cupping his face as if she was drinking something warm and sweet from his lips. Following the line of her hand's motion, Ron looked at Picture-Hermione's mouth, the corners of which were raised as she smiled into the kiss.  
  
Ron felt that same crooked grin settle onto his face as he finally understood: 'She liked it! She likes me!'  
  
Hermione seemed a bit shaken up. She said in a wavery voice, "Then it is settled," She finally looked up at him, and it seemed she couldn't help smiling just at the sight. They were starting to lean in for.an encore, when they were noticed by everyone else in the room. The familiar whoops and catcalls ensued from the few partiers left in the common room, but now they weren't so much humiliating and horrifying, as just a bit embarrassing. Ron realized that the worst part of everyone knowing he liked Hermione was Hermione herself knowing. If she knew, she would, of course, reject him, and their friendship would never be the same. And for the inevitable rejection to be so public was mortifying. When everyone had been listening and watching Fred's 'evidence' he had longed to take back everything he had said and done in the Charms room. But somehow, inexplicably, miraculously, it seemed like he wasn't going to be rejected. Now he didn't regret kissing Hermione at all, only being caught.  
  
Hermione seemed to have similar feelings. She laughed, and grinned that mischievous smile that had always made Ron's heart flip. She whispered surreptitiously in his ear, "When they're all gone..." before going over to talk to Ginny and some other girls.  
  
Ron tried to control his blushing as he followed her lead and joined the Gryffindor guys, planning to linger when they finally decided to go to bed. He couldn't believe his luck.  
  
A/N: Oh, no, it's not over yet! Next: Fred and George accidentally create a MAJOR complication in their brother's new relationship.  
  
Shameless plug: For something a bit more angsty, tragic, and romantic, try my other new R/H fic, Our Precious Blood. (Personally, I think it is much better than this fic.) 


	9. Generosity Can Backfire

Chapter 9: Generosity Can Backfire  
  
George couldn't believe his luck. They had won the bet. Lee had just handed George the money, the second largest sum he had ever seen in cash.  
  
And, on top of that, Ron and Hermione seemed happy and really together. George had had a few doubts when they had looked so horrified at the picture of their kiss, but they seemed to have worked it out somehow. They had just been caught again, for goodness' sake! 'I knew he wanted in her robes.' George thought wryly, breathing a sigh of relief. He hadn't ruined his brother's life for personal gain after all.  
  
And, still better, he had just made a date with Katie Bell for the next Hogsmeade weekend. He wasn't sure how he'd managed it, but he had.  
  
At the moment, George was listening with one ear to Colin Creevey congratulating Fred one more time on his excellent shot. "The perfect decision picture, I've never seen one so good. Most wizard pictures show the same kind of thing, over and over, like waving and more waving, but if you take it just right and capture the moment a decision is made, you can see both the before and the after, just the way we did."  
  
When Colin finally went up to bed, Fred clapped his twin on the back and said, "Got another idea, O Partner."  
  
"What is it?" George didn't have the heart to put up his guard, when this last idea had turned out so well. And maybe the butterbeer helped.  
  
"Give Ron his cut."  
  
George was puzzled. "But I thought he didn't want it."  
  
"No, he didn't want it; he didn't want to participate in the dirty bet. He's got a conscience, and he's in love. But now the bet is over, and his lovely older brothers have a load of money that they couldn't have gotten without his help, unwilling though it was..."  
  
George thought he understood. "So we give it to him as a gift."  
  
"I think we owe him that, after what we put him through tonight."  
  
George nodded. "Yeah, poor guy. Did you see his face?"  
  
"Redder than I've ever seen it." Fred grinned. "And that's saying something."  
  
"And now he's got a girlfriend; he'll want to buy her things..."  
  
"He's not the only one, eh, George?" Fred elbowed him. George grinned, thinking of Katie. Maybe, after Saturday...  
  
George looked up as a group of guys, the last stragglers, went up to their dorms. But Ron was still there, the only one still out of bed, flipping absently through a Quidditch magazine.  
  
"Hey, Ron!" George said. Ron glanced up. He looked like he didn't know whether to be annoyed with them, wary of them, or grateful to them.  
  
"Good show tonight, little brother!" Fred said, going up to him and clapping him on the back.  
  
"Mum'll be so proud; I just know she's been planning on making Hermione a Weasley ever since she asked to help with the dishes that first summer at the Burrow." George put his hand on his heart. Ron seemed taken aback, but not displeased.  
  
"But seriously, mate, we'd like to congratulate you." Fred said in an uncharacteristically sincere tone.  
  
"Right," George went on, nodding earnestly, "and...compliment your taste."  
  
"Don't think so much of hers, but hey..."  
  
"There's simply no accounting for the desires of beautiful women." George shrugged. Out of the corner of his eye, George thought he saw something move near the door to the girls' staircase, over Ron's shoulder, but he paid no attention.  
  
"Anyway, Ron," Fred was saying. "the three hundred Galleons we discussed. Here it is." He took out the money, and pressed it into Ron's hand.  
  
Ron's eyes were wide with shock and anger, but his mouth hung open for a moment as if he was unsure how to begin his vehement protest. George simultaneously covered Ron's mouth and snapped his jaw shut.  
  
"I know things didn't go exactly as we planned then..." he said in an ironic tone. The only plan that had come out of their interview in the corridor had been Ron's idea of banishing Hermione from his thoughts, and hadn't that been successful.  
  
"But some plans ought to be thrown aside." Fred continued. The twins rapidly fell into their usual fast-talking banter, not allowing Ron an opportunity to speak.  
  
"The bottom line is, Ron," George said. "you certainly did your part to win us this money..."  
  
"You earned it, mate!" Fred ejaculated.  
  
"Well, Fred, it's not as though it was particularly distasteful work, or anything; I mean, I'm sure he enjoyed himself..."  
  
"We're sorry if that picture embarrassed you at all--don't see why it would, myself, snogging a pretty girl, but..."  
  
"But it all turned out for the best, didn't it?" George asked Ron.  
  
"Course it did, George!" Fred answered. "He's got three hundred Galleons AND the lovely..."  
  
"Talented..."  
  
"Brilliant..."  
  
"Disgustingly brilliant..."  
  
"Kind-hearted..."  
  
"Smart-mouthed..."  
  
"Fiery-tongued..."  
  
"Sweet-lipped..."  
  
"Hermione Granger!" the twins concluded together.  
  
"Oh, does he." said a cold voice in the corner of the room.  
  
George looked over Ron's shoulder, and saw Hermione glaring at them, arms crossed. 'How much of that did she hear?' he wondered frantically. 'Enough' he immediately answered himself, seeing the anger seething in her eyes. Fear such as only his mother was usually capable of inspiring in him covered George's heart like a spreading glacier.  
  
Ron had whipped around at the sound, and now stood frozen, the telltale money still in his hand. He gaped incredulously, and tried to say something to explain himself, but couldn't seem to form any words. Before he could get out anything coherent, Hermione had turned on her heel and ran up the stairs.  
  
George's first instinct was damage control. "All right, you can fix this..." he said, trying to infuse certainty in his voice.  
  
"What you have to do is take that money and go to Hogsmeade--" Fred said.  
  
"--And buy her something!" George suspected it was only his panic that made Fred's idea sound so perfect.  
  
"Something BIG!" Fred amended, gesturing wildly with his arms.  
  
"Or, better yet, something small and shiny!" George said, placing his hand supportively on his dazed younger brother's shoulder. That finally seemed to wake Ron up. He shook it off angrily.  
  
"I'm through taking advice from you two on girls." he spat accusingly, threw the money at their feet, and ran up to his own dorms.  
  
Fred and George stared after their younger brother a few moments, feeling horrible.  
  
"D'you think we should--" Fred said quietly.  
  
"Try to talk to her?" George finished. He shook his head sadly. "I think we've done enough, Fred. I think we've done enough."  
  
A/N: Next chapter, the thrilling conclusion! Thanks for reading, please review! 


	10. The Hero, Saved

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I've been working 70 hours a week! (Don't try it. Seriously.) Anyway, here it is, the long-awaited conclusion!  
  
Chapter 10: The Hero, Saved  
  
Ron, hounded by troubling thoughts about his horrific situation, caught only a couple fitful hours of sleep that night. He alternated between planning always-inadequate explanatory speeches to Hermione, thinking of creative tortures for the twins, and wallowing in guilt and self-hatred. He kept thinking about how righteously angry she must be, what terrible things she must be thinking about him, and how he deserved every bit of it. He cursed himself again and again for not telling her about the bet as soon as he had heard, and for not telling her that the twins had offered him a cut of their winnings. Maybe if he hadn't withheld that shameful tidbit, if he'd been completely honest with her from the first, then she wouldn't have believed... But how could she not have, the evidence was all there, he had been standing there holding the money! It was all Fred and George's fault!  
  
But, as satisfying as that idea was, Ron found himself unable to totally accept it. He couldn't deny his own responsibility. There had been many instances where he could have and should have done things differently, where his own conscious choice of action had contributed directly to the present mess. He'd chosen as he had in the hope of avoiding having to face his feelings for Hermione. But now that he'd been forced to do so, he was able to know how completely he depended on her for...well, just about everything. She cheered him up, and scolded him when he needed scolding, and put things in perspective, and thought of incredible plans, and made sure he didn't fail out of school. It certainly wasn't always easy being Harry Potter's best friend, and Ron doubted he would have been able to cope without Hermione.  
  
And the worst thought of all was that now Hermione would surely never speak to him again; he had lost forever not only their new...relationship? Lord, but that sounded funny...he'd also lost one of his best friends. The image that hurt Ron the most was her trusting eyes, right before she had let him kiss her. She had trusted him, and what had he done? He had betrayed her, and hurt her in the most intimately cruel way. He hadn't done it on purpose, but that didn't change the fact that he had.  
  
Ron must have done more useless wallowing than helpful planning in his hours lying awake that night, because, by dawn, he still didn't really have any real plan either to win back Hermione or to revenge himself on the twins. He did, however, know one thing for certain: the sooner he talked to her, the better. By the time breakfast was over, Ron and Hermione's new relationship would be the main topic of conversation on all four House tables, not only Gryffindor's. Ron knew that the only way he would be able to withstand the attention of the entire school was if what they were saying was true, and Hermione was at his side. But if she went down and told everyone what she had seen...Ron shuddered to think of the consequences.  
  
Since he was awake anyway, Ron dressed before dawn and went down to the common room in the hopes of seeing Hermione and straightening things out before breakfast. Anxiously bouncing one leg and watching the door to the girls' dorms, he waited. Hermione did not come down, but every Gryffindor girl saw him waiting there on her way to breakfast, and tittered at his 'sweetness' and 'devotion.' Ron gritted his teeth and barely resisted the urge to yell at them that he wasn't 'sweet' at all, he was a horrible guy who would deserve it if every one of them decided to slap him, and would they just tell him where Hermione was already!  
  
It seemed that Hermione had either gotten up even earlier than Ron had, snuck out of the dorms some alternate way he was unaware of, or skipped breakfast, because he never saw her come down. At very the last minute, before he would be late for class, Ron had to run back up to his dorms, grab his books, and make a break for Transfiguration. Ron cursed himself for not bringing his bag down with him and thus allowing Hermione a two- minute window to escape him before class.  
  
When Ron walked into Professor McGonagall's room, he found only one empty seat: his normal one next to Harry. But Hermione was not in her usual seat on Ron's other side. She was in the very front row, the picture of a model student, as always, sitting up straight, awake and alert, her books out and ready to learn.  
  
As if nothing had happened.  
  
But, at the same time, her change in seating position itself seemed to be an implicit acknowledgement that something had happened, something that meant cutting herself off from Ron. Ron felt a wild despair, looking next to him at his best friend. He hoped that his hurting Hermione hadn't meant that she would avoid Harry as well. He deserved it; Harry had done nothing. And Harry needed both his best friends, more than he knew. Ron somehow doubted Hermione would be so unjust, but he knew how awkward things could become. They were used to their comfortable group of three; how strange would it be to be part of Harry and Ron, one unit completely separate from its decidedly-less-fun twin, Harry and Hermione?  
  
In the hopes of at least preventing this warped scenario, Ron decided to try to pass her a note, even though he knew how Hermione, and, worse, Professor McGonagall, frowned on note-passing during class. He ripped a scrap from his scroll, and wrote on it simply,  
  
Hermione,  
  
I need to talk to you. Please.  
  
Ron.  
  
He folded it and wrote her name on the front, printing it a bit neater than usual. He tapped Seamus's shoulder and slipped the note into his hand.  
  
A few agonizing minutes later, Ron got his response, and he groaned. Seamus hadn't passed the note to Hermione at all; he had opened it and shared it with his entire row, who had written him little asides on the same paper:  
  
What do I look like, a pink-dyed love-messenger owl?--Seamus  
  
Talk? Is that your code word for snogging?--Neville  
  
Didn't you two 'talk' enough last night? How late did you come in, anyway?- -Dean  
  
Aww, he said "please"!--Parvati  
  
Ron ripped up the note, annoyed. When class ended, he tried to catch Hermione, but she was headed off to Arithmancy, walking swiftly, and Ron had to go the opposite direction for Divination. When Professor Trelawney told them to break into pairs to foretell the week's horoscope for each other, Harry kept making little predictions about Ron having cute romantic adventures with Hermione, like saving her from the giant squid, taking her on moonlit broomstick rides, or getting caught in the prefects' bathroom. Ron wasn't quite sure how to receive these predictions; he was afraid he ended up doing a repeat of last night's nervous grunts. He was too ashamed to tell Harry what had really happened, and he still held out the hope of being able to fix things before that became necessary. Ron tried to turn the tables by making up something about two girls fighting over Harry like two Seekers going after the Snitch. That idea seemed to make Harry nervous and agitated, so Ron figured it had worked. As long as they weren't talking about him and Hermione.  
  
After Divination, it was time for lunch. Ron decided to grab something to eat since he'd skipped breakfast, but stopped in the library on the way down to the Great Hall. Hermione wasn't in either place. But Ron did see Lee Jordan hawking a new bet: how long until Ron and Hermione's first fight. The 'Less than 24 Hours' tickets were going quickly; Lee would probably recoup his losses by the end of the day.  
  
"Try less than 3 hours," Ron muttered crossly to himself as he grabbed a sandwich, not even bothering to sit. He did notice that, to their credit, Fred and George were ignoring the new bet, not even attempting to capitalize on their knowledge of the actual fight. Ron supposed that they were satisfied, for a time at least, with their 900 Galleons. Or, he realized, explaining the reason for the fight would involve compromising the money they had already won.  
  
Though he wasn't really hungry, Ron somehow managed to choke down his sandwich as he looked in the Gryffindor common room, the Owlery, the kitchens, Hagrid's hut, the Great Hall again, the library again, and even (it seemed least likely, and therefore most likely) the Charms room. No Hermione. Then, just as he was ready to give up and wait for her outside the History of Magic room (their next class), he saw a flash of that familiar bushy hair, coming out of a bathroom that he seemed to remember was the one haunted by Moaning Myrtle. Cursing himself for not checking there, Ron called after her and broke out into a run.  
  
She saw him, gave a squeak, and ducked back into the bathroom. Ron caught the door before she could close it behind her, and stepped in.  
  
"Get out." Hermione said coldly. "This is a girls' bathroom."  
  
Ron couldn't help thinking that was kind of ridiculous.  
  
"Hermione, this is Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. No one uses it. Except when they're brewing illegal potions." He reminded her. He looked around. "Where is Myrtle, anyway?"  
  
"She flew down the drain when I told her I was bored by her stories of torturing Olive Hornby. Now leave." Hermione had her hand on one of the stall doors, threatening to lock herself in.  
  
"Just...hear me out. Please." Ron asked, putting his hand on the doorframe so she couldn't shut it.  
  
"I have no desire to hear anything you could possibly say to me, and I certainly have nothing to say to you, so if you would just leave me alone-- " Her lips were pursed and her tone was clipped and carefully controlled.  
  
"Yes, you do! You're seething mad; just let it out already!" Ron said loudly. Maybe he was only misdirecting his anger at the entire situation toward her, but he could not help feeling a bit indignant that, after five years of friendship, she wouldn't even give him a chance to have his say, much less the benefit of the doubt. Besides, he felt he deserved to have her yell at him; he wanted it. Because this cold (hopefully pretended) apathy hurt far worse than even the rejection he had anticipated last night.  
  
But he hadn't expected her to give him what he wanted. He was shocked when she turned away from the stall she'd been attempting to hide in, hair swinging. Her jaw was set and her eyes narrowed.  
  
"All right. I do have something to say." The icy voice became almost mechanical. "Congratulations on a game well played." It felt like a slap in the face. She'd said the same thing to him once before, when he'd beaten her at chess with a particularly tricky endmove. "Why, that was simply underhanded!" she had said, with a wryly annoyed smile playing on her lips. "That's chess," he had replied matter-of-factly. "And I won."  
  
Ron was still reeling when she walked past him toward the door to the hall; it took him a moment to recover himself enough to follow her. He touched her arm to stop her, opening his mouth to apologize, but she cut him off.  
  
"I mean it, Ron. Great strategy, really, telling me about the bet. I honestly thought you were just as appalled by it as I am. Obviously I was wrong. And that idea of yours, to figure things out, why, that was a stroke of genius! Very smart, you know, to phrase it as an experiment, to rely on my natural curiosity instead of your 'Weasley charm.' Because I'll have you know that that was the only way that ever could have happened. I'm just as good an actor as you; I can fool wizard cameras as well. I don't like you one bit and I never did--"  
  
This last denial wounded Ron far deeper than any of Hermione's sarcasm.  
  
"You did." he said, his voice infused with a certainty that he did not so much feel as need to feel.  
  
She looked pained for an instant, as if he had finally reached her with a truth she couldn't deny. It broke her ability to put up that unfeeling façade. She was hurting, and despite the fact that he had been the culprit, seeing her in pain like this just made Ron want to gather her into his arms. Hermione spoke before she could stop herself, her misery apparent.  
  
"Don't you see, it doesn't matter, because I don't anymore. I can't. It's a question of self-respect. I couldn't hold my head up if I still liked you after what you did. Do you know that in all my life, no one, not even Draco Malfoy or Rita Skeeter, has ever made me feel as cheap as you did last night." She tried to stifle her emotion with a bitter laugh, turning away from him. "I mean, I really should have known something was up. You avoid me for two weeks, and then all of the sudden we're kissing in an empty classroom."  
  
"There was nothing sudden about it," Ron said quietly. "Five years, Hermione." He took her hand again, gently this time. She did not immediately snatch it back, but seemed reluctant about it, and she still would not look at him. He had to turn her chin to make her.  
  
"Listen to me?" he implored her, looking into her eyes.  
  
"Fine," she said, after an unbearable pause. But she made a point of pulling her hand away from him and crossing her arms over her chest in doubt.  
  
"Well," Ron began uncertainly. 'Just tell her the truth,' he said to himself. "what happened is, that day when...the thing with Justinian...well, Fred and George pulled me aside and tried to talk to me about...about you. Like they wanted me to...do something. And I couldn't figure out why they'd do that, as they've never cared until now, so I 'blackmailed' them into telling why, and they told me about the bet. And I was appalled by it. So much so that I told them, kind of, you know, in the heat of the moment, that I would stop even thinking about you altogether. Not that it worked..." he tried a weak smile. "Anyway, then Fred says, I still remember, 'Would you think about her for three hundred Galleons?' And I just looked at them. I couldn't think of any response to that. I just looked at them, thinking how wrong that was, and that I couldn't believe my own brothers would stoop so low, and then I walked away."  
  
"Changed your mind, though, didn't you?" Hermione snapped defensively, clinging to the last bits of a rapidly breaking down wall. A wall that stood between her and hurt.  
  
"No, I never did." Ron said firmly. "But I understand what it must have looked like. You jumped to the only conclusion you could have. And you weren't...incredibly far from the truth. But I never, never would have..." Ron trailed off. He knew, deep down, that, in the end, this would just come down to whether or not she believed him. Whether she trusted him. And she had no reason to trust him anymore. But she had to know the truth anyway. Despairingly, he continued his story. "Anyway, Fred and George figured it out too, that I didn't want any part of their bet. I mean, it was pretty obvious, with me avoiding them, and avoiding you... Don't you think that if I was really trying to win three hundred Galleons I would have been...trying things all along for the past two weeks?" Yes, that was a reasonable point that she couldn't really argue, tangible evidence in his favor. "And so that's why they took matters into their own hands and locked us up together. And in there, when we were...talking about us...after a while I completely forgot about the bet, and the fact that they'd offered me a cut. It was the farthest thing from my mind; I just wanted to know whether...I just wanted...well, you know." He sincerely hoped she did. "And I think last night Fred and George intended that money as a gift, not...payment. They just thought it was funny to talk about it like I had 'earned' it. You know them." He took a deep breath. "So that's my story," he concluded, looking hopefully at her. It was up to her now.  
  
"How can I believe you?" she asked sadly. "Even if that's all true, it still means you lied."  
  
"Well, I know I didn't tell you everything..." Ron said nervously.  
  
"You lied." Hermione repeated flatly. Ron couldn't deny it. There was a pause. "Why did you lie to me?" The tone of Hermione's question seemed to finish it with an unspoken statement that Ron understood just as well as if she'd said it aloud: 'You didn't have to lie to me.'  
  
"I was scared." It was the first thing that had come to his mind, an answer that seemed to cover everything.  
  
"Scared of what?" she asked, finally dropping her arms from where they were crossed protectively in front of her chest.  
  
"Of this!" he gestured vaguely but vehemently between them. Surely she knew what he meant; he was scared of how intensely he wanted to hold her, how he'd risk his life for her with no question, how he suddenly found his future dreams filled with fewer blanks and more hopeful certainties.  
  
"Aren't you still scared?" she inquired quietly. Ron was surprised at how well he could read her; what she really meant was, 'Please say you're still scared; please say that what you're feeling is strong enough to scare you too, because I'm terrified.' Ron was glad it was so easy to reassure her truthfully on this point.  
  
"Of course I am! But I'm even more scared of...the alternative." A cold numbness filled Ron at the thought of completely losing her.  
  
"I'm scared of that too," Hermione murmured, looking at her hands. "But..." But she didn't feel as if she had a choice. It was the self- respect thing, the trust thing.  
  
Ron understood her reluctance; it came from a basic self-protective instinct. But surely she knew that she had to judge him as a whole, and it had to be obvious that this unfortunate incident was a fluke, was not him.  
  
"Hermione, you know me. What sounds more like me, an idiot who forgets about the fact that his brothers are using him when he's alone with a pretty girl, or a slimy git who'd use his best friend for a bit of cash?" Ron shrugged. "Besides, it's not like I took the money."  
  
"You didn't?" Hermione appeared dumbfounded...and relieved.  
  
"Ugh, of course not!" Ron made a face. "They kept saying I should buy you something.." A panic-inducing thought suddenly occurred to him. "Wait, you didn't want me to buy you something, did you? Because I could go back and ask them..."  
  
Hermione was shaking her head. Her eyes had lost that sad, deadened look, and the only weight that made her shoulders sag anymore was her bookbag. Though her expression remained impassive on the surface, there was a smile glowing behind her face, from deep inside.  
  
"Are you sure? Because I'm not likely to have 300 Galleons again anytime soon--"  
  
"I don't need anything else," she said simply. She stepped closer to him, and, amazingly, hooked her forefingers around his. "You gave up 300 Galleons for me?"  
  
Ron laughed at the absurd wonder in her question.  
  
"Hermione, 300 Galleons is nothing! I've faced a mountain troll for you, I've belched up slugs, I went to visit a bloody giant spider for you, I saved you from a trampling winged horse, not to mention countless hours in the library..."  
  
The idea of their entire history as proof of Ron's love for her made Hermione laugh a near-sob. Unable to stay hidden, the smile she'd been hiding behind her face now burst forward to shine unrestrained.  
  
"You're right," she said. "You're completely right. It's the only way the whole thing makes any sense at all. I'm sorry for doubting you, I should have known." Ron tried to protest that none of it was her fault, but she wouldn't let him. "Well, I suppose I did know, deep down, all along. Because you're right: I do know you. But I guess I just needed to make you reassure me. I'm sorry; that was really rather silly of me. I suppose it's just..." she looked down. "It was easier for me to believe that you were using me than that you really liked me."  
  
Ron was completely taken aback. That idea struck him as so utterly ridiculous that for a moment he couldn't respond.  
  
"Of course I'd like you, Hermione! Of course! You're..." Amazing? Gorgeous? Brilliant? Audacious? Utterly maddening? The most passionate girl I know? He couldn't think of any words good enough to completely describe her. She was looking up at him with expectant, still slightly insecure eyes, and the sight made him smile helplessly. "I don't know what it is that you are, Hermione, but, believe me, I like it." The word 'like' didn't seem to cover it, either, but it was the word they'd been using in talking about whatever was going on between them, and after less than 24 turbulent hours Ron didn't have the nerve to substitute. Hermione seemed to understand; she grinned and looked down shyly.  
  
"What I don't understand," Ron gulped, gathering his courage to ask a similar question. "is why you'd like me! I mean, you could have had Viktor Krum!" He said the Quidditch star's name with all the respect and awe he'd had for him at the World Cup, not the scorn he'd put on when Hermione had been dating the older boy. "Any of the Gryffindor guys, really..." Ron then lowered his head and quietly voiced his greatest insecurity, his greatest shame, "Harry, even."  
  
"Ron!" Hermione's voice was at once scolding and sympathetic. Ron felt her fingers under his chin, lifting it so she could look him in the eye, in a gesture he recognized from the moment after he had saved her from Justinian's trampling hooves. She was smiling.  
  
"Why would I want the boy-who-lived when I can have the hero-of-the-day?" she asked him in a joking but utterly sincere tone.  
  
Hearing those words from Hermione meant infinitely more than hearing them from Hagrid. Ron felt a whoosh of power and energy surge all through him, much like he sometimes felt in his wand arm when doing a particularly good bit of magic. Without a word, he pulled Hermione to him and hugged her so tightly that he was a little afraid he was hurting her. He was instantly reminded of their last hug, in the Care of Magical Creatures pen. But Hermione wasn't politely pulling away, as Ron had then. She was laughing softly at his show of emotion, relaxing into him and resting her head on his shoulder. Her choice to stay in his arms was rapidly changing their hug from an act of impulse to a conscious, deliberate act of will. She wanted this too. The thought was still new, and it thrilled him.  
  
Ron wasn't sure what felt better, her solid wholeness in the circle of his arms, or her arms curling around him. All he knew was that he'd never felt anything so good.  
  
Except he had. He'd kissed her.  
  
The idea had much the same intoxicating effect on him it had had the first time. He knew that it simply had to be acted on if he was to reclaim possession of his mind. Leaving his arms solidly in place, he lifted his head.  
  
"So...where were we?" he whispered breathlessly, licking his lips. He was probably blushing. He didn't care.  
  
Hermione looked up too, and pulled back just enough.  
  
"You mean, before we were so rudely interrupted?" She was still very close.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well," she smiled that mischievous, teasing smirk of hers. "we were in the Charms room."  
  
"Well, yeah, I know, but--" But please don't make me wait long enough to get all the way there!  
  
"It's ok...here is just as good..." She stepped away from him until she held just his hands. It was only the promise of a kiss that persuaded Ron to let her go.  
  
She carefully placed one of Rons's rather large hands on her waist. He could not recall ever being so totally conscious of himself, and his body. Surprisingly, he wasn't the least bit embarrassed by it, but absolutely exhilarated. Hermione smiled to herself as she arranged his other hand in its funny position in the air near her shoulder. Ron let her move him, watching her every gesture, wondering at her easy grace. When she was finished, she looked up into his eyes.  
  
"I think we were," her gaze dropped to his lips. "right here," she murmured as she leaned forward to place her lips against his.  
  
Their frozen indecision was forever behind them, captured in an infamous photo. From the moment her lips touched his, Ron kissed Hermione for all he was worth. He gave up worrying about technique, as he had that first time, and simply concentrated on directing everything he was feeling into the kiss. His hovering hand touched her cheek, and that tantalizing bushy hair, while his other arm wrapped around her lower back. He even kind of bent her backwards over that arm.  
  
And she was kissing him back with those impossibly soft lips, her arms around his shoulders, tiptoeing and arching to align her entire body with his.  
  
And as she kissed him, Ron realized that he didn't need fame or money or, God forbid, a scar; he didn't need to be Quidditch Captain or Head Boy. He didn't need to save the world. Leave that to Harry. Ron now knew that as long as he had Hermione, he had something greater and more important than anything he'd seen in the Mirror of Erised that winter night so long ago, and something much safer and more lasting than anything of Harry's he'd ever envied.  
  
But, once again, they were interrupted. The bell rang loudly, signaling the end of lunch and the beginning of class. Hermione pulled away, eyes wide.  
  
"We're late!" she gasped. She grabbed his hand and started to pull him toward the bathroom door.  
  
"Aww, Binns won't notice..." Ron protested, slipping his arm around her. He did not give her a chance to say a word before kissing her again.  
  
Hermione melted back into him for only a moment, before breaking it apart again, as he'd known she would. But as she did, she made the loveliest little reluctant sound in her throat.  
  
"Ron, Professor Binns may not notice, but the whole class will, and I'd rather not..."  
  
Ron's eye's widened as he realized that he and Hermione had both been missing from general company the entire lunch break. He had a sudden vision of the History of Magic class turning into a repeat of last night's whoops and hollers.  
  
"Yeah, let's go," he agreed.  
  
Luckily, Ron, Hermione and Harry's seats in Professor Binns' room were in the very last row, so that Ron and Harry could nap undisturbed. Not many people noticed Ron and Hermione slipping into the room, as most of them had already fallen into their usual semi-comatose states for the hour.  
  
Harry, however, could not help but see his two best friends take their seats on either side of him. He smirked at them. Hermione let her hair fall in front of her face to hide her blush as she got out her books, and she busied herself taking notes diligently, as usual. Ron, however, leaned back in his chair, and relaxed for the first time since that horrible moment last night. He was settling into a daydream reliving the kiss that still tingled on his lips, and wondering when he could get Hermione alone next, when he saw a note on his desk. He opened it.  
  
So, broom shed or Prefects' bathroom?  
  
Ron glanced over at Harry, shaking his head with a smile. He wrote back,  
  
Actually, Moaning Myrtle's. Not very romantic, I know. I certainly didn't choose the place, it just sort of happened that way. And don't worry, she was gone anyway. Myrtle, I mean, not Hermione, of course.  
  
P. S. Fred and George said you're next. Remember your horoscope-Seekers after a Snitch!  
  
Smiling wickedly, Ron folded his note. Just then, another piece of paper landed on his desk. He opened it and immediately recognized Hermione's neat handwriting.  
  
Harry,  
  
Stop passing notes in class! You and Ron need to pay attention! Honestly, I don't know how either of you will get any O.W.L's.  
  
And tell Ron if he doesn't stop passing notes (and wipe that smirk off his face!) then I will be studying History of Magic in my dorms all night, alone, rather than with him, under a tree, only until supper.  
  
Sorry, Harry, you're not invited. But after supper we can have a little chess tournament-you play me, then Ron can trounce all over the winner.  
  
I mean it about the notes!  
  
Hermione  
  
Harry had been laughing too hard to relay the message, as Hermione had intended, and had just passed the note itself on. Ron immediately made a show of balling up both notes, catching Hermione's eye and trying hard not to smirk. He didn't want to give her the least excuse to stay in her dorms when he could be distracting her under a tree. However, he did pass Harry his response under the desk. He chuckled silently at the wide-eyed look of fear his P.S. caused. Ron definitely liked Hermione's idea of the chess tournament; if he guessed rightly, Hermione was planning to lose so that Harry could play them both. It was a way of showing that they had meant it about not making him a fifth wheel, that things really hadn't changed that much.  
  
Well, things had changed, but definitely for the better. For all three of them. Ron realized that being with Hermione, having her choose him every day, would make him secure and confident enough to be the rock that Harry needed him to be. Strengthened by her love, he would never again be weak enough to jeopardize their friendship with jealousy, open or hidden. Ron could be content as Harry Potter's humble, wisecracking sidekick, as long as Hermione would let him be her hero. That was all the glory he would ever need.  
  
A/N: Hope you enjoyed!! Please review! And don't forget to read my other (even better) fic, Our Precious Blood. 


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